She's Still Here
by Cut Throat Sweetheart
Summary: She can't move on.  Not until the five most important people in her world do.  Warning: major character death, but the character remains a major part of the story.  Based strongly off The Lovely Bones. Eventual R/R, M/C, and J/P feelings.  AU.
1. Prologue

_This is far from my first fanfiction, but it's the first one I'm doing for **Friends**. This story is based strongly off of the book **The Lovely Bones**, but strays from that plot somewhat and interprets the characters differently. The story will feature eventual Lobsters and Mondler, and addresses feelings between Joey and Phoebe. Obviously, quite AU. Feedback is amazing, and I do not own any of the characters involved in this story and freely admit that I am ripping off a wonderful piece of literature quite a bit. We'll start with a short introduction, later chapters will be longer. Enjoy!_  


* * *

My name is Phoebe Buffay. As in all you can eat, but don't you dare spell it that way. I was 27 years old when I was murdered on December 8th, 1997.

No, I don't need to hear your "Oh, how terrible," or any other pity. I never feared dying. I had even gone as far as to predict when I would leave Earth. It's too bad I was off by about 40 years. No, my death was nothing to be scared of. I was scared that I hadn't finished my life.

You see, I lived on the streets for a few years as a teenager, and I thought I'd developed pretty sharp instincts about who could be trusted and who was just a slimeball. Those instincts served me well when I had no permanent address. Maybe I just went soft. But I saw nothing out of the ordinary when the man down the hall asked if I would help him take his car home from the shop. I didn't even protest when he asked to drive the cab, because "he knew how to get there and it would just be easier."

I can't remember for sure how he finally killed me. But I do remember where I was. We had just pulled up near this park that didn't even feel like we were in the city anymore. I might have noticed if I wasn't in the middle of writing a song in my head to perform later at the coffeehouse.

If I'd known better than to ask where we were, I might've at least made it out of the car before the attack began.

Exactly what he did isn't important, and if you don't mind, I'd rather not tell you.

I remember lifting from my body. I knew it was happening because I went from ice cold to pleasantly warm, and when I turned I saw him shoving what was left of me into the garbage bag. It didn't bother me much—I just felt too good.

But then his eyes shifted up and the weight of what had happened hit me. It wasn't a dream. I really was dead, and if they ever found me, they would find me like…that.

I needed to run. So I did. Down street after street, block after block, across a bridge, throwing caution to the wind as I sprinted between the cars. I didn't know where I was going, or if there was anywhere to go. I just couldn't stay with my body.

But then I saw her. She'd probably just gotten off work, and would soon descend the stairs into the subway. Part of me said I should avoid her like the plague, but most of me wanted so desperately to hang on to her. She stopped at the corner, waiting for the light to change so she could cross.

I stopped and stood next to her, wondering if I should touch her, or speak to her, make her realize I was there. But then I started being pulled away, as though some force was telling me to not even think about doing such a thing. I grasped onto her sleeve such and her arm jerked but the force overcame me and I started to fall away. But she noticed. She swung her head around and her eyes met my pleading ones. I was out of her sight before I knew it, but the look of helpless horror that overcame Monica's face will stay with me forever.

And now, I speak to you from a place that you too will one day go. It's known as the In-Between. The place where those who have recently died go before they move on to heaven. I died a pretty long time ago, so you might be wondering why I'm still here. Well, the simple answer is this: I simply can't move on until the five most important people I ever knew move on too.


	2. I Saw Her Go

Ross, Chandler, Joey, and Rachel were perched in their usual spots around the table in the coffeehouse as Gunther delivered each the cup they ordered. After handing Rachel her cup, he grinned a signature extra-wide grin and Ross rolled his eyes as Rachel politely returned a slightly less creepy smile. I couldn't help smirking—it was pretty obvious the attraction they had for each other never really faded.

I was still coming to terms with what had happened to me. Maybe you could consider this the denial phase, because every part of me was pretending that I was sitting there too, and nothing tragic happened.

Tragedies don't happen to people like us.

* * *

A poke at my ribs interrupted my stupor. I whipped myself around and yelled at the offending intruder.

"Ow! Who the hell are you?"

"You shouldn't have done that."

The girl I spoke to may have been a couple of years younger than me, but who can really tell? She was speaking in riddles and I hated that. I only speak to people straight.

"Done what, and again, who are you?"

"Just call me Becky. And you're not supposed to touch the living when you go."

"Why not? She's one of my best friends," I retorted hotly.

"I know, Phoebe, but now she'll never be able to forget you."

"You know my name?"

"Apparently," she sighed.

"I don't want them to forget me."

"You know you'll have to leave them. Let them go. You're dead."

"I'm not leaving."

Becky sighed again and walked away, not facing me when she said, "You'll have to, but there's time."

* * *

I returned my attention to the coffeehouse scene, taking comfort in the familiar faces of my friends. They laughed, and it was obvious that no one knew of anything going awry. Until Monica came through the door.

"Hey Mon!" Joey shouted as he took notice of her figure approaching slowly. She wasn't in terrible shape, but to an attentive eye, she was visibly shook up. I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for causing that. It didn't strike me at the time that this would only get worse later.

Monica smiled weakly back at Joey and took a seat between Chandler and Rachel on the couch. Joey continued to tear into a sandwich while Chandler and Ross resumed their debate on whether or not this thing between Chandler and Kathy could ever possibly last. Rachel expected Monica to chime right in and mock the relationship (she couldn't help but think her friend was a bit jealous) but became concerned when Monica didn't say a word.

"Sweetie, are you okay? You don't look yourself," Rachel asked in an extremely concerned voice.

Monica looked up and put up an extremely convincing front. "Of course. So, um, where's Phoebe? She's supposed to go on in a few minutes, isn't she?" She tried to hide the shakiness in her voice.

"I'm sure she's just running late," Ross replied, bring his cup to his mouth.

"Probably got picked up by some guy on the subway. If there's one thing I know about Phoebe, she's a sucker for smooth talking strangers," Chandler laughed. "She'd forget all about us."

"I've taught her well," Joey chimed in smugly.

"Yeah, you guys are probably right," Monica said. "But I think I'll call her apartment just in case." She stood up and approached the counter.

"Gunther, do you think I could use your phone?"

He nodded and pushed the receiver towards Monica.

I of course knew that she would get no answer, but it didn't stop me from wishing I'd hear my own voice on the other line. But all we got was the generic answering machine recording.

"'She didn't pick up," Monica said upon returning to the group.

"Relax, honey, she's probably out," Rachel tried to comfort Monica, reaching her arm over her roommate's shoulders.

"Okay, but if we don't hear from her by tomorrow, I need to figure out what's going on."

* * *

They didn't hear from me, even though I screamed at their images like a lunatic on psychedelics. Becky sat there staring at me. I imagine she was wondering if she could try again to convince me to come with her, but the glare I gave her suppressed those thoughts and she turned her away.

I'd had plans that afternoon to go shopping with Rachel. So when I was supposed to show up at eleven and didn't, she was the next one to try to phone my apartment. Of course, she didn't get me.

Rachel took a deep breath, and looked at Monica, who was in the middle of a book.

"Mon, I think it may be time to call the police."

* * *

They were soon joined in the apartment by Ross and Chandler, both sporting very uncomfortable looks. When I think about it now, I don't remember a time since the first time we all met Rachel that any of us had gone a full 24 hours without hearing from each of the other five. No wonder.

"Describe your friend…"

"Phoebe. Phoebe Buffay," Monica relayed to the young officer. His older partner leaned against the kitchen counter. "About 5'8", long blonde hair, green eyes, 27 years old."

"Oh! And she was wearing a knee length blue dress yesterday the last time I saw her. Bloomingdale's. I picked it out for her. And a satin blue headband too," Rachel piped up. I smiled, knowing only Rachel would remember things like that.

"She drives an old taxi cab from her grandmother," Ross added.

The older officer lifted his head at that statement. "Do you know the license plate number?"

They all shook their heads. Nobody had ever thought to look at that. I don't even remember what it is, just the first three characters. Probably should've known that, now that I think about it…but why did they want to know so badly?

Chandler wondered the same thing. "Why do you ask?"

"We got a report this morning from the 45th precinct in the Bronx about an abandoned taxi found on the edge of the river. They wouldn't have thought anything of it but…there was a lot of blood found around the area."

Monica's face went white. "I'm sorry, I have to go sit down," she cried and ran to the couch. Worried, Rachel followed.

"You think that might have been her?" Ross asked softly, his voice cracking slightly as it always did when he was nervous.

"Couldn't tell you," the younger officer replied. "But it's worth looking into. Who should I call with more information?"

"Call me," Rachel popped up from the couch. "Number's on the fridge, just take it."

"Thank you ma'am." He turned back to Ross and Chandler. "Don't be too presumptuous yet, but if this was your friend and something happened to her—"

"IT WAS HER! SHE'S DEAD!" Monica screamed out suddenly. All six heads whipped in her direction. "I…I think I saw her go," she continued softly, choking back a sob.

"Mon, I think you need to go to bed," Ross said, walking over and helping his little sister up and leading her into her bedroom.

* * *

At about eleven, Monica was still out cold on her bed. Poor girl, I think I really did a number on her. I felt terrible at the time; I never meant to put her through it. Rachel was on the couch watching something on television when the phone rang.

"Hello?" she answered tentatively.

"Miss Green?"

"Yes, who's calling?"

"This is Detective Collins from the 6th precinct, one of the officers that you spoke with earlier."

Rachel's breath caught. "Did...did you find Phoebe?"

"No, Miss Green," the voice spoke sadly. "But we did find a blue satin headband under one of the tires of the abandoned taxi. I'm so sorry, but it seems like we're looking at a homicide."

"Oh my God…I have to go. Thank you officer…" Rachel's voice trailed off as she lost her breath.

My heart broke a little at the sight of it. I promised I would never hurt my friends, and look what I went and did?

And then there was Monica. Standing in the doorway of her bedroom, with a devastated, knowing look on her face.

"I told you."

They both broke into sobs. I did too.

* * *

_I know this is the ultra depressing part. I promise it won't be all terrible like this, but there's some more sadness yet to come before they start to deal with it. Reviews are awesome!_


	3. I Think I Always Did

"There's got to be something I can do to help them," I cried with utter exasperation. I'd never seen any four people so broken as Monica, Rachel, Chandler, and Ross looked right then in that apartment. And the only thought in my head was that it was all my fault for trusting that damn guy.

"No, and you're not going to feel better by continuing to watch," Becky replied, twirling a flower in her fingers.

"Well I'm certainly not going anywhere right now," I whispered. "Huh. Where's Joey?" I hadn't seen him since that first scene in the coffeehouse—which meant he didn't know yet.

"Oh, no."

He must've been on a date or something. Sometimes he stays at the girl's house if they have a particularly good time. And by that I mean particularly good sex.

He sauntered in with that morning after grin. All was right in his world, but he just entered hell.

"Goooood morning!" Wow, that must've really been some good sex.

Monica and Ross didn't even look up. Rachel glanced at him, then immediately returned her reddened eyes to the floor. Chandler stared at him with a faraway look on his face.

"Woah, who died?" Joey asked playfully, and might I say ironically. When he didn't get a laugh or any other positive response he might've been expecting, he became slightly more somber, still not grasping the black cloud in the room. "Okay, what's going on?"

Chandler was his best friend and roommate, and as much as I could tell it was killing him, he knew he had to be the one to tell Joey. He took a deep breath.

"Joe, you know how we couldn't get in touch with Pheebs yesterday?"

"Oh yeah, she was on that date! Did he break her heart, cause I'll break his face…"

"She wasn't on a date, Joey. And we still haven't found her."

"Then how do you know she wasn't on a date?"

"Joe, come sit down," Chandler said softly, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder and leading him towards the couch.

"Okay…" Joey sat down and looked up at Chandler expectantly. Only then did the Geller siblings finally look up, with Rachel's face buried in Monica's shoulder.

"We didn't find Phoebe, but the police found her cab and a lot of blood out on the Bronx River Parkway," Chandler relayed slowly.

Joey looked at him puzzled. "What are you saying Chandler?"

I'd never seen Chandler come even close to crying before. His whole "humor as a defense mechanism" tactic was something I'd really admired, and I'd even tried to copy it on occasion when I didn't want to look like some sort of victim. It had always protected him, and yet here were tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

"Phoebe's gone, Joey."

"Well of course she's gone, she not here. I'm not an idiot, Chandler," Joey laughed nervously. I shook my head, wishing for his sake that that was all.

Chandler couldn't take it anymore. He nodded to Ross, who didn't seem to want the job any more than Chandler did, but sighed and bit the bullet.

"No, Joey," Ross said. "Whoever Phoebe was out with last night…killed her."

Monica whimpered at the blunt language and Chandler closed his eyes. He couldn't face the reaction.

Meanwhile, Joey's face was drained of all color. I half expected him to burst out crying right there or to just get up and walk away. But I was wrong. He wasn't miserable. He was angry.

"There's no way. If you haven't found her, you just didn't look in the right place. Phoebe is not dead," he screamed.

Now Monica was angry too. She jumped up, knocking Rachel to the side, and screamed back, "Don't you dare start trying to make this harder than it already is! Some heartless person killed Phoebe. It happened, so don't be an idiot!"

"You just haven't found her yet," he retorted resolutely. Now he did get up and storm out.

I did not want that to happen. If you grieve and mourn, eventually you get over death. But if you're in denial, how will you ever get over that? Don't do that, Joey. I need you to get over me.

* * *

Naturally, Chandler was the one to follow him, after giving him a good twenty minutes to cool down. After those silent minutes, Monica got up and started to clean, the only coping mechanism she really had. The apartment was already immaculate, but that never stopped her, right?

Rachel and Ross had long since broken up, but he was the only one left sitting with her. She lifted her eyes to meet his, and he silently moved his head to signal that she could come sit on his lap and continue her crying there. It was an invitation she couldn't refuse; even if they weren't dating anymore, he had always been so good at making her feel safe. Why did they break up again? Something about a Xerox girl…

Back to Chandler though. I didn't envy his task. He was probably risking life and limb to walk into that apartment and face the monster that had unleashed from Joey's body.

But much to Chandler's surprise, when he opened the door, he didn't find his roommate throwing things, or trashing the place, or throwing darts at his face. Joey was just calmly sitting on his recliner, facing the television that wasn't turned on.

"Joey?" Chandler tried timidly. Joey didn't respond. Chandler walked around the chair to face his best friend and grimaced at the look on his face.

"Monica's right. I am being an idiot. People don't just pull their cars over on the side of the highway, bleed all over the floor, and then walk off."

"Well you could be right too; maybe she is out there somewhere."

"Please, I know she's dead. I just…can't believe it. Someone so beautiful and funny and sweet…"

I thought he was just being a good friend, but it seemed to hit Chandler like a wall of bricks.

"You really loved her, didn't you?"

Joey looked up with a confused expression. "Of course I did, we all did. She was a wonderful friend to all of us and—"

Chandler cut him off. "No, I mean…you were in love with her, weren't you?"

I gasped. No, of course not, Joey and I had no relationship other than being extremely good friends who understood each other and listened to each other and hung out together and…

"Yeah, I think so."

WHAT? He really loved me? That couldn't be.

"I think I always did," Joey admitted softly, as tears finally started to fall from his eyes. Throwing all conceptions of manliness out the window, Chandler took him into a strong embrace.

I couldn't bear to see this. Joey so weak and vulnerable and sad broke my heart completely. I mean, seeing the other four fall apart had hurt me deeply too, but this was the straw that broke the masseuse's back. But why?

Because I loved him too.

* * *

_After this, we're going to skip ahead a little bit to where the initial shock has passed, and the story's going to be a little less depressing. The romances will start developing starting next chapter. Thanks for reading!_


	4. I Got a Bad Vibe

When you're up in the In-Between, exactly how much time has passed on Earth is pretty unclear. It doesn't really register. But if I had to estimate, I'd say at the point I'll resume the story, about three months had probably passed.

I was pleased to see that the five of them were now going about their daily business as normal, hopefully not thinking about me at all. I wasn't pleased that they seemed to completely give up the notion of finding my murderer, like there simply wasn't any point anymore.

I was reintroduced into their lives when Ross, ever the practical one, decided that they needed to clear out my apartment so it could be rented to someone else. There was regret in his voice as he suggested it; they'd all been putting that off. Chandler had been paying the rent on the apartment, even though nobody lived there. I didn't want them to clear it out either. Sometimes I shifted my attention to my apartment, just pretending like I still lived there, yearning to pick up my guitar and play it. Sure, I could sing here if I wanted, but that had always only been half the equation for me.

That was a Tuesday. They decided they would go that Saturday.

* * *

But on Thursday, Joey was sitting in his apartment, obviously bored. This was somewhere between Days of Our Lives and anything else of significance in his acting career. I guess he had no odd job to go do that day. Suddenly, he got up and left and I was curious about where he was going, so I "followed" him.

He was at my apartment. Why was he there? They weren't supposed to go for another two days. Don't you steal anything from the fridge, you idiot, it'll all be spoiled by now and I have no meat! Oh, sorry.

He walked around the living room. Occasionally he reached out to touch something, but always pulled his hand away. I don't know why he seemed so scared to make contact, if it was out of respect for me or out of fear of some kind of damnation for disturbing the property of the dead.

Eventually, his hand strayed near one of the homemade photo albums that Monica, Rachel and I made the summer before I died. Rachel was in some sort of crafty phase, and Monica and I were happy to help out because it meant Monica could organize it and I could take pictures. I got to keep it when the two of them used it as a weapon in a fight over some guy. Or was it two guys? Anyway, I would not have that thing destroyed.

I wanted him to take it out. Not just for himself, but because I wanted to see some of those pictures too.

"Go on, take it Joey," I whispered into the air.

I don't know if he heard me somehow or just decided it was worth whatever risk he was taking, but he did take it. Then, I noticed, he gently sat down on the couch instead of plopping down like he usually would. Right then, I would've rather he plopped.

There were some really great shots in that album. There was one with Chandler with his arms around all three of the girls, because "he wanted to feel like a pimp who actually did get girls." One with Ross pushing little Ben on a swing while Monica clapped on the slide next to them. One with me playing my guitar (an unflattering shot because I was in the middle of singing something.) One with Joey sleeping on Ross. I couldn't contain my laugh at that memory, and Joey chuckled a little bit. They swore that was an accident and that would never happen again…

The last one in the album was from the last Thanksgiving. It was of all of us—that is, after Chandler was allowed to leave the box. Kathy took the picture, and props to her, because it was so perfect. I slipped that one in after the photo album was already in my possession.

I guess that picture weirded him out a little bit, because he frowned. It was 11 days before I died. I didn't see it that way. It was just an amazing picture of six best friends, and I wished I could take that picture up here with me.

He put back the photo album and picked up his stuff to leave. He put on his jacket and grabbed my key (when did I give him that anyway?) and closed the front door behind him.

And then he was there.

My murderer, just standing outside his apartment door like he had every right to be there. Which I guess he did, but I didn't like it. He had much more of a right to in a pine box.

Joey picked up his head and nodded to him.

"'Well hi there," my murderer said. "You uh, thinking about moving in there? The last occupant vacated a little while ago…"

"The last occupant was my friend. She didn't 'vacate', she was killed. She would never take a vacation without us," Joey replied. I smirked at his misuse of the word, knowing I would've probably done something similar.

"Oh. Well I'm very sorry," the man said and hastily walked back into his apartment. Too hastily. Please tell me you picked up on that Joey?

He did. After staring at the space the man had occupied suspiciously for a few seconds, he exited the hallway and then the building.

* * *

"There's something really fishy about that guy," Joey said loudly as he walked into Monica's apartment. She, along with Rachel and Chandler were there watching TV and turned around to look at Joey strangely.

"What guy, sweetie?" Monica asked.

"I went to Pheebs's apartment today. Yeah I know it's Wednesday (_Thursday, Joe!_) and not Saturday before you ask. But anyway, when I was leaving, there was this really creepy guy standing there, and he asked me if I was moving in. When I said that my friend lived there and she was killed, he left wayyyy too quickly."

"He probably just didn't know what to say."

"I don't think so, Mon. I got a really bad vibe from that guy."

Monica sighed. "If it makes you feel better, I'll go over there tomorrow and talk to him."

"Okay," Joey smiled.

* * *

Later that night, Ross was in his apartment reading an issue of National Geographic. I stuck my tongue out at it. I don't know how he could read such garbage.

There was a knock at the door. "It's open," Ross yelled.

With a small smile, Rachel entered his apartment and sat down next to Ross, who smiled back.

"Hey, how are you doing?" Ross asked.

"Pretty okay," Rachel replied softly. She shifted in her seat a little. "Ross, I just wanted to thank you for all you've done these past couple of months. I know I'm a little…emotional, but you were always there for me when I needed to cry."

"It's no problem Rach, you know I'm always there for you."

"Yeah…you are."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments as Ross finished up his article and Rachel picked at her fingernails. That's how I knew something was up—Rachel would never screw up a perfect manicure. She finally spoke up.

"Ross, do you remember Phoebe's silly little lobster theory?"

Hey, that theory was not silly and I still stand by it! I was a little pissed off at Rachel for a second.

"Yeah?"

"Well…I've been thinking about it a lot lately. And I was wondering if maybe it had some truth to it."

Ross turned to face Rachel, placing down the magazine on the coffee table. "What do you mean?"

"Well, um…our being fated to be together was one of the few things Pheebs ever seemed to know for sure, and…we don't want to call her a liar, do we?" Her breath caught in her throat.

Ross looked into her eyes, as if scanning to see if she was just kidding. She was (pardon the pun) dead serious.

"No, I guess we wouldn't," he replied and pulled Rachel into a passionate kiss.

I still wonder if anyone could hear a crazy blonde jump up and down and cheer from the In-Between.

* * *

_I told you things would be a little happier now :) Thanks again for reading!_


	5. I Need You to Be Okay

Monica exuded confidence. She almost always did. The only time Monica got insecure was when…well it's pretty random, actually. I would roll my eyes with the rest of them when she got overly cocky, but I was always there to tell her how amazing she was when she was feeling self-conscious.

None of that today, though. She stood outside my murderer's door with the utmost self-assurance. I was glad she felt confident, because I was worried.

She knocked forcefully on his door and waited for him to open it. When he did, she was met with his face. A very unsuspicious looking face, he had. He kind of looked like your nice old uncle that would come over for Christmas with presents and gave you piggy back rides when you were little. That's probably part of why I trusted him myself, but now I knew better. Unfortunately, Monica didn't and I hoped so much that she would eventually figure it out.

He smiled at her. "How can I help you, sweetheart?"

"Good morning. I was inquiring about the vacant apartment down the hall and I just wanted to meet some of the neighbors," she answered politely.

"Is that so? Well that's wonderful! Things have been very lonely since that other young lady moved out." I saw her cringe slightly at the phrase "moved out." "What's your name?"

I prayed she'd use a fake name.

"I'm Monica Geller, sir. And you?" No such luck…

"Ray Bergen. Pleased to make a lovely lady's acquaintance." Until now, I had only thought of my murderer as a face. Now I had a name to put to it, and it made him seem like a person instead of the embodiment of evil he was. I hated it.

"It's good to meet you too," Monica replied, shaking his hand and smiling. "Well, I'd best be going now."

Damn it, he'd put on such a façade for her! (See, I do know French.) She was going to walk away not finding a single thing wrong with him, and all the screaming in the world on my part wasn't going to help.

"So soon? But we've hardly met each other, as you wanted to do. All I know is your name. Won't you come in?" He leaned against his door and held his arm in towards his apartment.

No Monica, don't do it!

"Well, alright, I suppose I can stay and talk for a few minutes."

She walked past him in the direction of his outstretched hand and stood next to a black leather couch in the middle of the living room. He motioned for her to sit down.

"So, Miss Geller, what do you do?"

"I'm a chef, sir." I grimaced every time she told him more about herself. I was literally shaking. What if he's one of those serial killers that just can't get enough? I couldn't bear to see anything happen to Monica and I prayed that she'd get herself out of there fast.

"Oh yeah? Well in that case you'll have to invite me to dinner after you move in, won't you?" He laughed heartily, and she chuckled in return.

"And how old are you, Monica?"

Now Monica hesitated. Of course she did. Who asked a person their age three minutes after first meeting them?

"I'm 29." That was a lie. She was 26. She was finally getting that vibe Joey was talking about.

"That's a good age. Can I get you something to drink? Water, soda, wine?"

"Umm…no thank you. I'm sorry, I really do have to be going now," Monica muttered standing up.

"Come on, I insist!" he said walking back towards her. When both she and I thought he would stop walking he kept on going until he was seriously invading her personal space.

"I have to go," Monica said more forcefully and walked out quickly.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

"Ray Bergen, apartment 16," Monica relayed to the officers. "I just know it was him."

Immediately after leaving the apartment building, Monica had called the precinct and asked Detective Collins and his partner to come back to her place. At first, they might have been there in a matter of a half hour, but now that there were newer, warmer cases for them to work on, they didn't make it until eight that night. Everyone was impatient at that point, but nobody could say anything. I knew the officers were getting ready to declare my case cold, and I wasn't happy about it.

"Miss Geller, we can't arrest a man for murder based on a person's hunch."

"How about two people?" Joey piped in. "Seriously guys, this man is a major creep!"

"I know you guys want to get justice for your friend. So do we. It's our job and we're doing everything we can to find the body and the guy who did it. But your 'bad vibe' theory isn't going to hold up in any court of law," Detective Collins told them.

Monica and Joey were both visibly annoyed. Ross, Rachel, and Chandler were simply uncomfortable. Since they'd never met the guy, they couldn't vouch for the other two but were unwilling to let go of the only lead they had for the man that took their friend away from them.

"So you're saying that you're just going to completely going to ignore us? We can't be a part of this at all?" Monica was jumping down their throats with fervor.

"We can put him on the suspect list, do a background check and keep an eye on him, but we have no justifiable cause to take him into custody. I'm sorry."

"We know. Thanks for your time, officers," Ross said. He showed them to the door, and they left.

"You're just giving up like that? But Ross, Joey and I both know he did it!" Monica yelled at her brother.

"You know nothing, Mon. He might be creepy, but creepy doesn't make someone a killer. You're driving yourself crazy, and Pheebs wouldn't want that."

Monica closed her eyes and sighed. She didn't believe him. He was right of course—I didn't want her to run herself ragged over this. But that didn't mean I wanted them to give it up because Monica and Joey were right too.

She looked a mess. Chandler took notice and stood up from his place on the couch. He walked over to where she was standing in the kitchen and pulled her against his chest. She looked up for a second, slightly confused, but then put her head back down and closed her eyes again. They stood there for a minute, until Rachel spoke up.

"Guys, I think we should call it a night."

They all nodded in agreement. The guys left, bound for Joey and Chandler's apartment where Monday Night Football had been interrupted before.

* * *

Monica had started singing in the shower again. After I died, I noticed she stopped for a couple of weeks. Yes, I watched my friend showering. What of it? I didn't look at her. Much. I'm curious about the human body.

But anyway, she was singing again. She usually sang catchy songs, whatever was stuck in her head that day. However, this one didn't sound so happy. I got something about "too soon" and "left us" until it became much too garbled to understand. And it was from tears.

No Mon, it's been too long. You can't cry anymore, I thought.

I looked around. Becky wasn't there. For the first time I could remember since I'd gotten there, she wasn't there nagging me to go with her. I don't know if she was just taking a break, but I took it as her blessing for what I was about to do. I started walking forward.

Monica stepped out of the shower, wiping her eyes and wrapping a towel around her body.

I kept walking forward. Her face became obscured and blurry.

She looked into the mirror, which was steamed and blocked her vision. She reached to wipe it off.

Her neck came into focus.

She kept wiping.

I saw her mouth, her nose, her eyes.

And she saw me.

Those blue eyes went wide as hell. I never meant to scare her. I was there to show her it was okay, I was okay, and I needed her to be okay. So I smiled brightly.

Slowly and tentatively, her look of shock morphed into a smile too. She put her hand against the glass and I put mine against hers.

But then I was gone.

"Sorry Phoebe," Becky sighed. "That's all you get."

* * *

"Rachel!" Monica burst into Rachel's bedroom.

"Mon! I could've been naked in here!"

"Well you're not. Rachel, I saw Phoebe!"

Rachel nodded. "Yeah, I see her sometimes too. Why are you so worked up?"

"No Rach. Not like that. I really saw her. She's still here."

* * *

_I know this update didn't come quite as quickly as some of the others. Alas, the life of a college student...and a biology major nonetheless. Reviews are great, and thanks for reading!_


	6. I Hope I'm Ready

"They're never going to look at him twice," Rachel murmured into Ross's neck.

"I know," Ross replied softly.

"I'm really worried about Monica," Rachel admitted, sitting up. "She came into my room the other night and told me she saw Phoebe, and that she was still here."

"Well, maybe she is."

Rachel looked at him incredulously. "Am I hearing you correctly? Ross Geller, king of science and logic, accepting that something supernatural could be true?"

"Only seems fitting. If Phoebe was here and it was someone else, she'd believe it for sure," Ross shrugged.

"It's so unlike you," Rachel whispered.

"A lot of things have changed."

"Not everything."

"No, not everything. I still love you more than anything else in this world," Ross replied, leaning in to passionately kiss Rachel, who instinctively placed her hands on his face.

They shifted on the bed, and it wasn't long before Rachel was underneath Ross, looking up at him with clouded lusty eyes.

"What did I do to deserve you?" Ross asked.

"Shut up and make love to me," Rachel replied.

And they did. It was really beautiful…and yes I did watch. Shush. It sounds completely trivial given the circumstances, but sex was something I really missed. Not the meaningless sex I had with virtual strangers, but the beautiful moments of passion between me and the few people I ever had a real connection with. And then my mind strayed to Joey again.

If we hadn't been so hard headed and such good friends, would we have ever woken up and seen what we had between us? If we did, would we be brave enough to handle a relationship? Would sex with him be as amazing as I thought it would be?

I'd never know, I guess.

* * *

"Hey," Chandler said as he entered Monica and Rachel's apartment. "Rach asked me to come check up on you. Said you were sick or something." Poor Chandler, I could tell he was starting to feel a little something more for Monica, but there was no way she was going to return it in this state, I thought.

"I'm really fine, Chandler! See, I'm cleaning like my kooky self!" Monica laughed, but it was totally fake. Glad Joey was the actor and not her.

"Yeah, your hyena noise there makes you sound REALLLLLY fine."

Monica sighed. "I'm just really bugged about that guy. We know it was him and not a thing we do will get justice for it because we've got no proof. And you've all accepted that!" she finished angrily.

"Mon, we're as upset about it as you are, but you do realize that it's been months since she's been gone and we all need to learn to be happy again," Chandler said rubbing Monica's shoulder.

"I don't know what would make me happy anymore," Monica admitted.

"Well sitting here alone won't, that's for sure. Hey, why don't we go see a movie or something? A comedy would work best, since you could laugh both from the jokes and the various beverages that might come out my nose when I laugh, unless you want to see something else, or you don't want to go at all, or you want me to find Rachel, or…"

Monica smiled and put a finger to Chandler's mouth. "That's enough. Let's go see a movie." Hold on, was that a date? And did Monica say yes? And to Chandler?

* * *

The next day, Joey, Monica and Chandler were perched in the usual spots in the coffeehouse.

"I asked for skim milk! Skim! This is definitely 1%," Monica griped.

"Hey, what does that percent actually mean? Is it like, the percent of cows that make that milk? Cause if it's that, then there's like 97% of cows they're forgetting about," Joey rambled.

Chandler sighed. "It's the fat content, Joe. Which contrary to her belief, Monica does not need to care about."

"Hey, once a fatty always a fatty," Monica pouted.

"Once a fatty, now a gorgeous woman," Chandler replied.

Monica smiled timidly.

The door to the coffeehouse swung open and in strolled a suspiciously happy looking Ross and Rachel. Ross had his giddy face on, the one he wore whenever he or one of his coworkers discovered some sort of new dinosaur bone. Rachel wore an adorable grin, but from the red brim around her eyes, she'd been crying.

"Okay, what's up with the creepy faces?" Monica asked.

Rachel laughed. "Well, um…I didn't feel very well this morning. So I went to the pharmacy and picked up a few things that I thought might make me feel better. And…I picked something else up. It wasn't exactly planned, but…"

"We're having a baby!" Ross interrupted, his toothy grin expanding tenfold.

Three voices broke out in "Wow!" and "Congrats!" and "Oh my God!" Oh, I'm sorry, make that four. I still count, right?

They went around, and there was hugging and kissing on the cheek.

"That's fantastic, guys!" Monica exclaimed.

"Really, that's…woah!" Joey babbled.

"Now we just have to decide which will get to be more of a pain in the ass to have around, another Rachel or another Ross. Oh I'm sorry, I meant delight," Chandler quipped, earning a shove from Rachel. "Hey, what was that for?"

"Because you were mean, and because you know I'm pregnant you can't hit me back," Rachel replied smirking.

"Fair enough."

"Well, we just wanted to come down and share the news with you guys, but Rach and I have to go upstairs and make a doctor's appointment! Gosh, we're having a baby!" Ross shot up and took Rachel's arm.

"Bye!" they both yelled over their shoulders.

Joey let out a large sigh. Chandler and Monica turned their heads to look at him.

"You okay there Joe?" Chandler asked.

"Oh yeah, just a little emotional you know?" He chuckled. "I think I'm going to go upstairs and soak in the news," he said with a small smile and left.

"I don't know that he's really alright," Monica sighed.

"Me neither, but he'll need time to himself if he's not. And we're not finished with our coffees yet," Chandler responded.

"No, you're not finished with your coffee, and I'm not finished with my cup of fat."

"I promise you 1% won't hurt."

Monica laughed. "Can you believe this? So many years of dancing around each other and now they're going to bring a little baby into this world?"

"They really love each other," Chandler mused while studying Monica's eyes.

"I'd like to feel that one day," Monica looked up.

"Yeah, me too…"

The gap between them hadn't been all that big to begin with, and it was starting to close. Chandler reached out a hand and brushed a few strands away from Monica's face, and she instinctively leaned into the sensation. She looked at him with curious eyes, and he leaned in to capture her lips in his. She breathed heavily and happily took them. They remained locked together for a few seconds, and then he pulled away.

Neither of them spoke for about a minute, until Monica smiled and Chandler broke into a grin.

"Wow," Monica said.

"Yeah wow," Chandler shot back.

* * *

I was so happy for them. Really, I was, and yet I couldn't stop some unruly tears from falling. Rachel and Ross were having a baby, Monica and Chandler had found each other for more than just comfort in the bad times, and Joey was upstairs alone while I sat here a world away. The other four had someone; the two of us had no one. It just wasn't fair.

I loved them all so much. And I wished nothing but the best for all of them. But I just didn't think I could sit there watching anymore.

"Becky?" I said softly, still staring at the hug Monica and Chandler were locked in.

She came up and stood next to me. I really looked at her for the first time. She was really beautiful. Wavy red hair, green eyes, and a sad smile. I wondered who she left behind that loved her.

"If I go with you, will I still be able to look at my friends when I want to?"

"Sometimes, but I think you'll find that you won't need to see them all the time after a while," she responded.

"I hope you're right," I said swallowing, "because I think I'm ready to go now."

* * *

_I know this update took forever and a day. I promise you a new and happier chapter sometime tomorrow! RR,MC,JP for life! 3_


	7. I Say Goodbye

I felt so incredibly light. The sounds of a child humming pervaded the airwaves around me, and I didn't know the source. But it was the most amazingly beautiful sound. It wasn't a song I ever heard before, but it was happy and calm.

I hadn't really expected anything specific out of heaven. I pictured it occasionally, as a child, as some place in the sky, a city full of the revived dead just prancing around on a little white cloud of fluff. Where it never rained, no one ever got hurt, and hate was left behind on Earth.

But it wasn't such a stereotype, at least not yet. Becky, holding my hand gently as she walked slightly ahead of me, led me to the edge of a cliff. As I traced the crumbly gravel underneath me with the toe of my shoe, I wondered exactly what this was; if it was the beginning of heaven or just some odd portal. I looked up and breathed in the pale mist floating around my face—the sky was tinted with warm orange, like a sunset, but with no actual sun in sight. Instinctively, I crooked my neck to stare over the edge of the overhang.

"What, do we have to jump off to get there? I'd really only like to die once, if that's okay," I laughed nervously.

"Hmm," she chuckled. "I don't suppose you've ever been skydiving, have you?"

"Hell no, sister!"

"Well, think of it this way. When you do something like skydiving, or bungee jumping, you experience an incredible feeling, the rush of the freefall, but with the nagging fear in your head that something will go wrong, and you'll end up dead. Well trust me, there's no way anything will go wrong here. It's the pure, unscathed feeling of your body finally letting itself submit to nature, the freedom of a freefall minus the fear." She smiled, staring wistfully into the tangerine horizon.

"Yeah, I don't know if I can do that."

She rested her hand on my shoulder. "It's okay to be scared."

"I'm more than scared," I said, finally letting a tear escape from my eye.

"I'm right here," she replied, running her hand back down my arm to grasp mine again.

Slowly, we took two tentative steps, such that our toes lined the edge of the rock, where the safety of the tethers that bound me to my old life met the terrifying uncertainty of what was to come.

"I can't," I said, letting go of her hand sharply, as I closed my eyes and sunk to the floor, sitting with my knees drawn to my chest.

"Why not?" she asked softly.

"Tell me, Becky. When you died, who did you leave behind?"

She sucked in a breath. "The two most important people in my world. My husband Elliot and our beautiful daughter, Alexandra."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. They're doing really well. Alex is nine now—such a bright girl. And so mature. As for Elliot, he's finally dating again."

I swallowed. "And that makes you happy?"

"Well, it's a whole lot better than when he was moping around, thinking about his dead wife," Becky said sincerely.

I nodded, hugging my knees in closer to my chest.

She looked at me, brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"He'll move on too, you know."

"Who?"

"That guy you kept watching. Joey, I think? He'll move on at some point."

"Yeah, I know. And I want him to. But…don't you ever wish you had gotten to say goodbye, the proper way?"

I was looking in her eyes when I asked, and it was impossible to miss that flash of guilt that crossed them.

"What? What aren't you telling me?"

"Well…I did say goodbye. And I'm really, really sorry I didn't mention it, but if you think it's important, you can too."

* * *

He heard a faint knocking on the door. Sinking into his position on the couch, Joey didn't find the prospect of getting up to let the mystery knocker in all that appealing, until he heard the soft voice permeate through the door:

"Hey Joey, it's just Monica. Can I come in?"

He'd left them over two hours ago, no one daring to interrupt his reverie until now. He had no real interest in speaking to Monica, knowing she would try to rationalize everything or talk about happy thoughts, neither of which was going to do him any good. But it was Monica, and he couldn't just leave her there.

He stood and padded over to the door in his bare feet, hoping he didn't look like a complete mess. Yes, he felt ecstatic for Ross and Rachel. Yes, he loved the fact that there was a baby on the way. Yes, he saw that tiny little spark between Monica and Chandler.

But he would be crazy to try and pretend he was happy.

He opened the door to a softly smiling Monica.

"Hey…any Knicks games on? I made cookies," she said.

He smiled back. "No Knicks game, but I got Die Hard in the VCR."

She chuckled. Under normal circumstances, you could not get her to sit through an action film, but it didn't seem to be concerning her right now.

"Where's Chandler?" Joey asked.

"He was going to come too, but his boss called him in for some emergency meeting. My guess is as good as yours as to what qualifies as an emergency in his line of work."

"What does he do again?"

"I dunno."

* * *

"Remember, in the bathroom, when you walked towards Monica and she saw you?" Becky asked, standing behind me. I watched as Joey pressed the play button and started fast forwarding through the previews.

"Yeah. I was just getting to her when you pulled me away," I replied bitterly.

"Well if I hadn't, what's about to happen now would've happened then, and you wouldn't have known what was going on."

"And what is about to happen now?"

"As I said when you first got here, if you touch someone when you die, they carry you with them forever. If you continue walking towards Monica, when you collide with her body you'll inhabit it temporarily. It's extremely dangerous if you don't make it short."

"How short?"

"No more than about half an hour. Otherwise, you'll kill her too."

* * *

"I'm just going to use your bathroom really quick," Monica said rising from the couch.

I locked my eyes on her face, just waiting for hers to find them. I walked.

She saw me. This time I wasn't smiling. I was on a mission. She let out a silent gasp. I kept walking.

Taking a tentative half-step back, her body began to shake. But I kept walking. She whimpered.

"Mon, you alright?"

I was mere inches away. And when we collided, a cold wind hit my face.

"Monica!" Joey cried out. She lay sprawled out on the floor, unresponsive. He ran out of his door, furiously knocking on the door across the hall. "Rachel! Are you there? I need help!"

Rachel wasn't there.

He sprinted back into his living room, but to his surprise, Monica wasn't there either.

I was.

His eyes went incredibly wide. I missed that hilarious look, and I started to laugh. "Hi Joey."

He looked around rapidly. "Monica, wherever you are, get out here and tell me every single thing you put in those damned cookies!"

My smile faded. "Joey, it really is me. Phoebe Buffay, in the flesh. Well technically in the flesh of Monica Geller."

"It can't be you. You're…"

"Dead."

"Yeah."

"Well for the next few minutes, I'm not. I'm here. And so are you. Just me and you."

He reached out to touch me, trying to figure out if I was real. His fingers traced my arm.

"You're warm and everything."

"I know."

"I don't know what to say."

"I guess you don't have to say anything. But there's something I wish you'd say."

He looked confused, but laughed. "Okay, tell me and I'll say it."

"Will you? Because you never said it when I was alive."

"What are you talking about?"

I shrugged. "Never mind." I looked down, feeling like an idiot.

He eyed me over. "I guess I don't know what you want me to say. But if you're really here, there's something I'd like to do."

"Oh?" I looked up.

"Yeah," he said, as he took my hands in his. He was so close now; I could hear the beat of his heart. Strong and quickly speeding up.

I studied his face. It was so childlike at times, with his huge innocent brown eyes. Even when he had the slightest stubble I couldn't get the image of the little boy out of my head, the child I couldn't say no to. But in this moment now, it was the face of a man I hadn't even realized I'd been in love with.

His eyes darted to my lips. I found it kind of forward, until I reminded myself I'd been fixated on his for the past few seconds.

He slowly moved his head closer to mine until his mouth was barely an inch from mine. He hesitated. But I didn't. I took his lips in mine like I needed their touch to save my life. Pardon the pun.

We had kissed before. But it was always playful. This was so passionate. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he placed his on the small of my back, rubbing in small circles. I felt his tongue drag softly across my bottom lip and I dropped it to grant him access.

I pulled away to look into his eyes. His pupils practically filled his eyes, and I felt a twinge of arousal, something that had become unfamiliar for me by now. I opened my mouth in surprise, and then to speak.

"Joey, please make love to me."

He breathed heavily. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything."

I took his hand and pulled him to his bedroom, closing the door behind us. He reclaimed my lips, gently but with conviction, for sure. I tugged at his shirt, as he drew away to let me pull it off of him. He started to pull down the zipper of my dress.

"I've imagined this a lot," he admitted.

"Shh."

The dress fell to my ankles. I stepped backwards and lay back across the bed as he unbuttoned his jeans and climbed atop me, my legs resting between his knees.

"Wow Joe, I thought you were kidding when you said you went commando half the time."

He grinned sheepishly. "Fraid not."

He ran a hand over my breast, and I moaned softly.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured. I liked it. He'd called me hot on numerous occasions, but beautiful was a new one.

I bucked my hips up at him, hinting at him to remove the last piece of clothing obstructing us. He slid them down my legs and I blushed. Suddenly I was modest. But when he kissed me, I forgot all about it.

I'd barely caught a glimpse of heaven. Just the entrance. It was wonderful, gorgeous, mystifying, so on and so forth. But the bliss I felt when he finally entered me had to be beyond anything past that jump, beyond any beauty heaven had in store. And when we reached our release, it was even enough to make me forget, if only for a second, that I was dead.

I lay my head against his pillow, smiling at him. A tear streaked down my face, and he reached to wipe it away, but I stopped him.

"I'm out of time, Joey."

"No, you can't leave now. Not unless I can go with you."

I shook my head. "Ain't no way, mister. You're staying right here with the people who care about you until someday, many many many years from now, you find your way back to me."

He smiled at me. "I will never meet anyone quite like you, Phoebe Buffay."

"And don't you forget it." I stood, pulling my dress back on, and then lay back on the bed. "Leave me here, and come back. You'll have to wake up Monica."

He nodded and started walking towards the bedroom door. He turned back towards me, with tears glistening in his eyes.

"Goodbye, Phoebe."

"Goodbye, Joey."

* * *

_This is the second to last chapter. It's also a very long chapter by my standards. I wanted them to have a meaningful goodbye. Thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly loved, if you like (or don't!)_


	8. I Moved On

"You guys ready?" Ross asked, key in the door. Four heads nodded in response. Ross smiled and opened the door to lead the group into my apartment.

"It looks so strange in here with all the furniture gone," Rachel commented.

"A lot bigger," Chandler added.

It was a beautiful day, and the sun was pouring through the window into the nearly empty apartment. They had finally vacated it so the next person could move in.

Monica smiled and walked toward the bedroom. "I asked them to leave Phoebe's guitar," she called over her shoulder, and reemerged holding the case in her arms. "It's her most prized possession and I wanted us to keep it."

The other four had planted themselves in the middle of the living room on the floor, Joey and Chandler next to each other and Rachel on Ross's lap. Ross rubbed Rachel's extremely prominent belly and she nudged her fiancée.

"Hey, don't you play a little guitar?" she asked.

"I do," Ross replied.

"I have a request."

"And what's that?"

"I wanna hear Smelly Cat."

The other four laughed. "What? I like that song!"

Ross gave in, chuckling. "Alright, fine, I'll give it a try." He strummed a few strings, trying to remember the chord progression.

He began to play.

"Smelly cat, smelly cat…" Rachel began.

"What are they feeding you?" Monica joined in.

"Smelly cat, smelly cat…" Ross sang.

"It's not your fault!" Chandler and Joey broke out in song.

The five of them smiled broadly as they continued.

"They won't take you to the vet, you're obviously not their favorite pet! You may not be a bed of roses, you're no friends to those with noses. Smelly cat, smelly cat, what are they feeding you? Smelly cat, smelly cat, it's not your fault!"

Ross put the guitar down and looked around. "That was fun."

"You know, I'm not sure how much of the supernatural stuff I believe in but…I think I heard Phoebe singing with us," Monica said.

* * *

She'll never know how right she was.

That was the first time I'd watched them in six months. After I left Joey, I jumped over that cliff with Becky and crossed the threshold into heaven. It was everything I thought it would be—music, love and no more pain.

The only thing missing was the company of the five most wonderful people I'd ever known. Not that I didn't have other company. Becky introduced me to so many great friends of hers, and I knew I wouldn't be lonely.

But the more time that passed before I saw Rachel, Monica, Chandler, Joey, and Ross again, the better. They all deserved to live a long and happy life.

Not to say I never watched anymore. Just a lot less often. I watched Rachel give birth to beautiful Emma, and three years after Ross and Rachel's wedding, to baby boy James. I watched Chandler and Monica's wedding, and the adoption of Jack and Erica. And the look on Chandler's face when three months later Monica tearfully told him she managed to get pregnant. When that baby was born, Monica had never been happier.

On the twins' eighth birthday, all of the children gathered with their parents in Monica and Chandler's Westchester living room. I was bored that day, so I decided to look in and wish them a happy birthday.

"And I was named after Mom's grandfather," James told Erica.

"I was named after my birth mother," Erica replied. Monica and Chandler had told the children as soon as they were old enough to understand about their adoption to avoid the awkward questions later. There was an ugly incident when they were first thinking about adopting where the little boy didn't know and…well they just didn't want that.

"I was named after Mom's daddy," Jack piped in.

"Who was I named after?" Emma inquired.

"Oh, no one sweetie, Aunt Monica and I just really loved your name," Rachel laughed.

Then the littlest one spoke up. "Mommy, what about me? Who was I named after?"

Monica smiled softly. "You were named after a very special friend of ours."

"A friend named Phoebe?"

Monica nodded.

Phoebe was ever the curious little bugger. "What happened to big Phoebe?"

Monica took a deep breath and put a hand on Chandler's shoulder.

"Phoebe went to heaven, sweetheart," Chandler told her.

"Like Grandma?"

"Yeah."

Little Phoebe climbed into Monica's lap. "Mommy, why did she go to heaven?"

Monica smiled at her. "She went to heaven so you could be born," she replied.

* * *

And that is what I choose to believe. If for this beautiful girl, this miracle that Monica had always dreamed of, to come into the world, I had to leave it, then it was all worth it.

Life is a beautiful thing. Death is just the final part of life. Brutal or natural, once you have died, there is no going back. So my advice to you is, live your life so that the ones you leave behind have something to remember you by.

My name is Phoebe Buffay, and I wish you the best for all the days of your life.

* * *

_That's the end. I enjoyed writing this story-although I admit that writing Friends is a little bit hard for me. I hope you enjoyed the story!_


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